


a change in roles

by meowrails



Category: British Actor RPF, Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, M/M, also some submissive benedict yay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4954192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowrails/pseuds/meowrails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a fun relationship. </p><p>(I tried making this fic as gender-neutral as possible, for all fans!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a change in roles

**Author's Note:**

> there aren't enough daddy kink fics or enough sub!benedict fics... i did both... and will probably do more.... im sinning

When Benedict arrived in the middle of the night, you were already starting to wonder if he would even manage to make it home.

 

"Is everything alright?" He had asked the instant he saw you, locking his eyes with your own. You slowly trailed your eyes down his figure-- admiring the new suit that your lover wore, and licked your lips.   
  
You had known that Benedict would be out for hours, possibly not until the afternoon, because of the shoot. It didn't bother you, being with an actor meant having to spend days even months without seeing each other. You can't imagine how strenuous it must be for Benedict, all you've done all day is watch bad television or skim through some books. The good part of all the stress and commitment of his work was that you could always be there to help him unwind, may it be by just gentle words or by something much more intimate.   
  
This time, however, you were the one craving something else. Something passionate. No, more than that, you wanted to do something that the two of you only did in extreme situations.

  
There was something about Benedict wearing a shirt that was obviously too small on him, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and high waisted suit pants, that made you want to scream.

 

His name, preferably.

 

God, he'd ruined you. Look what he turned you into. You looked like you were begging already, you haven't even opened your mouth.

 

(Benedict loves your mouth, your lips. Adores the way they look when he presses his fingers against them, and how they look wrapped around his length.)

 

Benedict noticed it right away, reading you like an open book. You can see him changing character, a role that only you got to see. Magazines always seemed to praise Benedict on his ability to dedicate himself to role, they have no idea.   
  
He pretends not to notice and sits on his favorite chair, slumping down a bit and spreading his legs.  
  
"Will you bring me a glass of whiskey, love?" He asks, starting out small. You nod and get it for him, almost instinctively following his orders.   
  
The game the two of you play started on a lazy afternoon, when he was slowly rocking into you in the sofa, wearing nothing but that one white shirt that clinged onto him so nicely. Benedict, lost in pleasure, had blurted out 'God, baby, I love fucking you.' You called him 'daddy' as you cummed, and nothing has ever been the same.

 

You hand him his drink. Benedict takes a sip and stares at you, eyes flickering and wondering if you were going to change your mind. You don't. You want this, you need this.  
  
"Sit on my lap," He orders calmly, his hand dragging its fingertips across your back. You are still in awe about how big his hand is, how long his fingers are. He can easily make you come with just two of them inside you.  
  
You complied and sat on his left thigh, his hand was still stroking your back, though now  Benedict had slipped his hand from beneath your shirt. You could feel his fingernails against your skin.   
  
"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, darling. I wanted to see you, I couldn't stop thinking about you." His eyes were locked on your bottom lip-- you could kiss him right there, but you stayed still, it was Benedict's turn to lead, to order you. He pulled you closer and helped you take your shirt off, you could swear you heard a quiet growl escape his lips as he pressed his lips to your nipple.  
  
Benedict rose his head to meet your ear, "Did you miss me too?"   
  
You held your breath for a few seconds before answering. The way he stared at you like he was starving made your heart skip a beat. "Yes, daddy."   
  
He smiled. "That's my baby," and returned to devour your chest and neck.   
  
While he sucked and grazed his teeth against your skin, careful to only leave marks beneath your collarbones so that he could be the only one to see them, you had come to realize that that only thing saving you from being completely naked was your underwear, already wet from arousal as you had been unconsciously rutting yourself against his hip.   
  
A hand held your hip and kept it still, making you whimper at the loss at friction. "Did I tell you to move?" Benedict ask behind gritted teeth.  
  
"No, daddy." You shook your head, your cheeks were already flushed. "Sorry. I just--"

 

"Just wanted to act like the slut you really are? You could, if you wanted to. But you would have to suffer the consequences." His hand started trailing down beneath the last bit of fabric covering you, dipping only one finger beneath it. It barely grazed against your sensitive skin, but the heat pooling in your body begged to differ. You could beg him, but you didn't dare speak.

 

You unconsciously spread your legs, allowing him to do anything he pleased. "No, daddy. I want to be good, I really want to be good for you."

 

Benedict's hands slip away from you body and he crosses his arms, looking at you as he wondered what he could do to you. As he thought, his hand knitted his fingers with your own reassuringly. You let out a quivering sigh, all the tension from your body leaving. Being punished wasn't what you wanted from today, you just wanted to have fun.

 

"Color?" He whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, his faint stubble ticing your chin. You could feel his defined arms around your waist and thighs, holding you, until you were picked up, like you were made of paper, to the bedroom.

 

"Green, daddy."

 

Just with that, Benedict slipped into his character again, and laid you down on the bed like a treasure, hands still on your thighs. "I'm sorry that I got angry with you, baby. Got caught up in the moment." With every syllable, his hands seemed to drift lower, reaching the small piece of fabric that covered you. He ripped it off.

 

You gasped, his head lowered between your thighs without any sort of hesitation. Benedict was made for sucking and licking you until your knees shaked. The sound of a bottle opening, probably the lube, made you open your eyes and look down at your body as Benedict practically devoured you.

 

One hand was busy unbuttoning his own shirt, while the other seemed to be distracted with your entrance, teasing you. Breaking you. Only stopping now and then to taste yourself from his fingers and lick them clean.

 

The muscles of Benedict's arms seemed to contract with every thrust of his fingers inside you, the whole view made your mouth water. His arms had always been an amazing sight.

 

He rose his head and pressed a fervent kiss against your lips. He had two finger inside you now. "You love this, don't you? Love it when daddy takes care of you?" He was smiling as he spoke, looking awfully pleased with himself. Your mind in his a total haze, you could only nod.

 

Benedict was starting to lose control, he's always been impatient, you could see him rutting against the mattress as he fingered you open. "Next time, I'm going to fuck you until you can't breathe. I'll make you wear the collar. You love it, don't you?"  His words come out in ragged breaths, you know he's getting close. Both of you are. The collar had your name engraved on it, especially made for you. So that you could proudly be Benedict's pet, his favorite toy.

 

You could only let out a strangled 'yes!' in response. He rose his head to stare down at you, still rocking his hips against the bed. He’s still talking, but you’re not listening. You’re far too distracted by the total sense of bliss and pleasure that overcomes you. It’s dizzying; the heat, Benedict moaning loudly, now against your neck.

 

He cums on the duvet (what an asshole, you’ll make him clean later), covering your neck with marks that would be impossible to cover.

“Probably shouldn’t have done that before the premiere we have to go to tomorrow...” Benedict mumbled, panting along with you.

 

You laugh, “God, I hate you.”

 

“That’s no way to talk to your father.”

  
He almost falls off the bed laughing at his own joke. You hate him. You love him.


End file.
